Slow, steady breathing gave way to wispy columns of fog, dissipating as they rose toward the gradient sky. The golden sun just had just begun peeking over the distant hills, warm rays dancing through the trees. Brenda blinked the sunlight away and bent deeper into her crouch, focusing all of her energy on staying low, silent, and hidden. She crept closer to the fields of the botanical garden, the carpet of dead leaves rustling underfoot as she moved. Irritated, she glanced down and hissed a plea of silence.
Stealing crops from other tribes was one of the only ways Brenda supported herself nowadays, though as a party of one, there wasn’t much to support. She preferred hunting wild animals, but such an activity was better suited for nighttime, and as she tucked a strand of luminous red hair back beneath her hat, she recalled the countless times her unnatural beacon had given her position away. Pulling her scarf over her mouth in an attempt to conceal her breath, she darted behind a small, half-heartedly constructed shack near the outskirts of the field. Pressing herself into the shadow of the building, she listened for a moment. Across the field, a low hum of conversation was obscured by the gentle breeze rocking the vegetables and fruits closest to her, but otherwise, the coast was clear.
In one fluid motion, Brenda broke out of cover, flitting between the stalks of corn and rows of ground vegetables as she grabbed handfuls of whatever was within reach and began hastily cramming them into her satchel. She had nearly filled her bag when the squawk of someone’s voice across the field let her know she had been found out. Spinning on her heels, she left as quickly as she had come, bounding back into the camouflage of the dense woodlands. Once she was certain she was no longer being followed, Brenda doubled over, chest heaving for a moment as she tried to catch her breath. Tugging the woolen hat off of her head, she ran a hand through the glowing crimson tendrils spilling onto her shoulders as she straightened herself. She peeked into her satchel, evaluating her bounty. It might not have been as successful a trip as she planned, but it would have to do.
Brenda could smell the trading bay before she saw it, the reek of livestock and rotting fish causing her face to twist with disgust. Tucking her nose into her scarf in an attempt to stop her stomach from turning any further, she elbowed her way through the crowd of merchants and traders, each of them competing for who could advertise their bargains the loudest. As she spotted her prize through the thick of bodies, Brenda broadened her shoulders, holding her head high as she approached the armor stand. She dropped her satchel on the counter proudly, a few pieces of produce rolling onto the surface as she placed her hands on her hips.
“The solar suit,” she demanded, eyeing the silvery piece of fabric delicately hung on the highest rung of the stand. There was a moment of silence before the vendor burst into raucous laughter, and a few heads in the crowd turned to see what was causing the commotion as Brenda’s face began to flush, nearly matching her hair.
As he caught his breath, the vendor dragged a filthy hand over his eyes and down the sides of his face, leaving a trail of grease behind. He grinned widely at her, exposing blackened teeth.
“Bren, baby, you never learn,” he cooed, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the stand, chin in the palm of his hand. “Ain’t no lousy carrots gonna cut it,” he said, grabbing one of the vegetables with his free hand and examining it before carelessly tossing it over his shoulder. His smile dropped as he began picking at his teeth with his pinkie.
“This is nearly double what I brought last time!” Brenda’s arms dropped to her sides as her hands tensed into fists, knuckles whitening as she hissed, “You’re a thief, Marco.”
“Takes one to know one,” the vendor snapped back, sleazy grin returning to his stained face. “Tell you what, freak,” he began, dragging Brenda’s satchel towards his side of the counter, “throw in that NukeBoy hidin’ on your belt and you got yourself a deal.”
Brenda froze as her gaze fell to her waist. She had forgotten her NukeBoy was tucked into one of the pouches hanging from her leather belt, barely hidden beneath the tatters of her cloak. She ran her thumb over the buttons of the makeshift gaming device, hesitant. Scavengers rarely had access to entertainment treasures like NukeBoys, but this was the closest she had ever gotten to bargaining her family’s heirloom back into rightful hands. As she thought of how much her parents had sacrificed to keep her safe, she glanced back up at Marco, who was still smirking, a meaty palm held open expectantly. Sighing deeply, she reminded herself why she was doing all of this. Brenda’s face scrunched with disdain as she began pulling the small gadget from its half-hearted hiding place when suddenly, a foreign hand dropped a drawstring sack onto the counter, the clatter of tin rattling from within.
“Food,” a gruff voice cut in, “real, pre-war food.”
Brenda and Marco both fell silent, eyes widening a bit as they stared at the sack in question. The chatter of the surrounding crowd suddenly died down, and as Marco’s jaw moved to open, the stranger interrupted again.
“Eugene. Fertility tribe. It’s from the military donations.” He glanced down at Brenda, sunken eyes searching her face briefly, but for what, she couldn’t tell. There was a brief moment of stillness as they studied each other, until Eugene’s attention turned back to Marco and he grunted, “Just give the girl the damn suit.”
Within an instant, the silver, reflective fabric had been shoved into Brenda’s hands and the sack of cans had disappeared. As Brenda stood motionless, trying to process what had just occurred, Marco began frantically packing away the rest of his goods as he snapped at her.
“Scram, red. Shop’s closed.”
A sudden rush of bittersweet satisfaction coursed through her, but as Brenda turned to thank the man who had helped her, she found he had disappeared. Looking down at the suit in her hands, she sighed, pressing the bundled fabric into her chest and breathing deeply. Despite all it had been through, it still smelled like home.
Stealing crops from other tribes was one of the only ways Brenda supported herself nowadays, though as a party of one, there wasn’t much to support. She preferred hunting wild animals, but such an activity was better suited for nighttime, and as she tucked a strand of luminous red hair back beneath her hat, she recalled the countless times her unnatural beacon had given her position away. Pulling her scarf over her mouth in an attempt to conceal her breath, she darted behind a small, half-heartedly constructed shack near the outskirts of the field. Pressing herself into the shadow of the building, she listened for a moment. Across the field, a low hum of conversation was obscured by the gentle breeze rocking the vegetables and fruits closest to her, but otherwise, the coast was clear.
In one fluid motion, Brenda broke out of cover, flitting between the stalks of corn and rows of ground vegetables as she grabbed handfuls of whatever was within reach and began hastily cramming them into her satchel. She had nearly filled her bag when the squawk of someone’s voice across the field let her know she had been found out. Spinning on her heels, she left as quickly as she had come, bounding back into the camouflage of the dense woodlands. Once she was certain she was no longer being followed, Brenda doubled over, chest heaving for a moment as she tried to catch her breath. Tugging the woolen hat off of her head, she ran a hand through the glowing crimson tendrils spilling onto her shoulders as she straightened herself. She peeked into her satchel, evaluating her bounty. It might not have been as successful a trip as she planned, but it would have to do.
Brenda could smell the trading bay before she saw it, the reek of livestock and rotting fish causing her face to twist with disgust. Tucking her nose into her scarf in an attempt to stop her stomach from turning any further, she elbowed her way through the crowd of merchants and traders, each of them competing for who could advertise their bargains the loudest. As she spotted her prize through the thick of bodies, Brenda broadened her shoulders, holding her head high as she approached the armor stand. She dropped her satchel on the counter proudly, a few pieces of produce rolling onto the surface as she placed her hands on her hips.
“The solar suit,” she demanded, eyeing the silvery piece of fabric delicately hung on the highest rung of the stand. There was a moment of silence before the vendor burst into raucous laughter, and a few heads in the crowd turned to see what was causing the commotion as Brenda’s face began to flush, nearly matching her hair.
As he caught his breath, the vendor dragged a filthy hand over his eyes and down the sides of his face, leaving a trail of grease behind. He grinned widely at her, exposing blackened teeth.
“Bren, baby, you never learn,” he cooed, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the stand, chin in the palm of his hand. “Ain’t no lousy carrots gonna cut it,” he said, grabbing one of the vegetables with his free hand and examining it before carelessly tossing it over his shoulder. His smile dropped as he began picking at his teeth with his pinkie.
“This is nearly double what I brought last time!” Brenda’s arms dropped to her sides as her hands tensed into fists, knuckles whitening as she hissed, “You’re a thief, Marco.”
“Takes one to know one,” the vendor snapped back, sleazy grin returning to his stained face. “Tell you what, freak,” he began, dragging Brenda’s satchel towards his side of the counter, “throw in that NukeBoy hidin’ on your belt and you got yourself a deal.”
Brenda froze as her gaze fell to her waist. She had forgotten her NukeBoy was tucked into one of the pouches hanging from her leather belt, barely hidden beneath the tatters of her cloak. She ran her thumb over the buttons of the makeshift gaming device, hesitant. Scavengers rarely had access to entertainment treasures like NukeBoys, but this was the closest she had ever gotten to bargaining her family’s heirloom back into rightful hands. As she thought of how much her parents had sacrificed to keep her safe, she glanced back up at Marco, who was still smirking, a meaty palm held open expectantly. Sighing deeply, she reminded herself why she was doing all of this. Brenda’s face scrunched with disdain as she began pulling the small gadget from its half-hearted hiding place when suddenly, a foreign hand dropped a drawstring sack onto the counter, the clatter of tin rattling from within.
“Food,” a gruff voice cut in, “real, pre-war food.”
Brenda and Marco both fell silent, eyes widening a bit as they stared at the sack in question. The chatter of the surrounding crowd suddenly died down, and as Marco’s jaw moved to open, the stranger interrupted again.
“Eugene. Fertility tribe. It’s from the military donations.” He glanced down at Brenda, sunken eyes searching her face briefly, but for what, she couldn’t tell. There was a brief moment of stillness as they studied each other, until Eugene’s attention turned back to Marco and he grunted, “Just give the girl the damn suit.”
Within an instant, the silver, reflective fabric had been shoved into Brenda’s hands and the sack of cans had disappeared. As Brenda stood motionless, trying to process what had just occurred, Marco began frantically packing away the rest of his goods as he snapped at her.
“Scram, red. Shop’s closed.”
A sudden rush of bittersweet satisfaction coursed through her, but as Brenda turned to thank the man who had helped her, she found he had disappeared. Looking down at the suit in her hands, she sighed, pressing the bundled fabric into her chest and breathing deeply. Despite all it had been through, it still smelled like home.
If only Mother could see her now.